French Interludes
by JiltedScribe
Summary: This is a prequel/companion piece to my Ingrained, but you don't necessarily need to read that first. This covers Alicia Spinnet's time in France following the war. She's homesick and restless when a chance meeting with someone she went to school with changes the trajectory of her life. Centres around a Gryffindor/Slytherin pairing so don't read if you don't like the idea of that.


A/N: This is the sort-of prequel to my other story Ingrained, which is a Alicia/George pairing. This initial meeting between Alicia and Warrington was first mentioned back in chapter three. I wrote this hoping to shed a little light on what happened back in France between Alicia and Warrington. It was a very important few years for both of them. And yes, I chose to call him Christopher, and I explained why over on Ingrained. (Cassius is a dumb, non-canon name that doesn't fit my interpretation of him, etc.)

FYI, I'm aware that French people living in France aren't going to speak English to each other. I don't speak French though and I don't trust online translators to pick up context, thus you'll have to imagine the chunks of dialogue in italics are spoken in French. Cool? Cool.

That being said, if you're only here for some Gryffindor/Slytherin angst and sexiness then feel free to read this as a stand alone fic. The timing of this posting is a little odd though since this isn't your usual V Day fluff. But...Happy Valentine's Day anyhow I guess! Enjoy!

* * *

At least she now knew why it was called the Rose Ball.

Alicia stood off to the side awkwardly and surveyed her surroundings. Dozens of rose bushes surrounded the ten circular tables, enveloping the courtyard in a fragrant, heady cloud. The colours ran the gamut from white to pink and through to the deepest, darkest red. Enchanted fairy lights had been woven through the bushes and they flickered and glistened cheerfully.

The whole effect was stunning. Alicia turned her back on the roses and glanced through into the manor. French doors were thrown wide open into a large, high-ceilinged room. There was no furniture anymore, only floating candles which provided exactly the right amount of lighting. There was nothing personal in the room. Not a single portrait or photo; nothing to indicate that the house belonged to the Warrington family.

Alicia retreated slightly into the furthest corner of the courtyard and began to scan the growing crowd. She hadn't seen Christopher Warrington since graduating four years ago. He didn't particularly stand out in her memories. She vaguely recalled him being tall and skinny. Quite gawky and pimply-faced, if she was being entirely honest. A good enough Quidditch player, but not the best Chaser she'd played against.

No sign of him yet.

Her perusal of the other guests had given her a stark realisation about the dress-code though. Most of the witches were wearing huge, Cinderella-style ball gowns, whereas she'd opted for a sleek evening gown. The invitation had only specified 'Muggle gown or tuxedo' and no one had thought to give her a heads up. She'd spent a small fortune on her dress, but ultimately she didn't regret it. It was beautiful and she had fallen in love with it immediately.

Her dress was floor-length and figure hugging. It was navy blue and covered in sequins which were currently reflecting the nearby fairy lights and making her look like she was covered in twinkling stars. Alicia smoothed her hand down the front of her dress appreciatively. She looked good, no doubt about it. The front of the dress was cut into a deep-v between her breasts and the back was completely open. She felt a little exposed compared to the other women, but she might as well flaunt it while she still had it. In a few years she might not be able to show as much skin.

"Champagne, mademoiselle?"

Alicia turned to find a waiter extending a tray of champagne flutes towards her. He was pretty good-looking in a clean-cut sort of way. He had blonde hair trimmed short and neat and blue eyes a shade or two lighter than her own.

She smiled politely and grasped one of the proffered glasses. "Merci."

The waiter nodded and let his gaze drop to her breasts. Alicia fought the urge to roll her eyes. French men were so blatant and brazen sometimes. She almost wished for a bumbling, uncomfortable Englishman. Like Hugh Grant in her favourite movie, Four Weddings and a Funeral. A pang of homesickness hit her right in the chest.

The waiter walked away and Alicia took a moment to check out his bum. Turnabout is fair play after all.

Not bad at all, she thought, sipping her champagne. Not that she could really pick up one of the staff tonight. Far too slaggy. She was technically at a work function and someone would be sure to notice if she disappeared with a waiter. Plenty of her Ministry colleagues already wanted her gone; she didn't need to be giving anyone ammunition against her.

The courtyard was filling up now and Alicia found herself sandwiched up against a rose bush as people milled around. A commotion by the door caught her attention and she knew her boss had arrived. Marie was only a tiny woman, but she had the loud, clear voice of a born-politician.

"_Darling, so good to see you_!"

"_My love, you look ravishing_!"

"_Oh, we must dance later! Don't let me forget_."

Alicia smiled to herself. She really had begun to like Marie. She'd always respected and admired her, but she considered her to be a friend now. Sometimes, she even felt like an older sister. Particularly when she gave Alicia unsolicited advice about her love life. Marie enjoyed setting her up on blind dates, but really, she only needed a thorough snog every so often, not a long-term relationship.

Now that the Minister for Magic had arrived, people were beginning to take their seats. Alicia made her way towards the centre table, where she knew Marie and herself would be seated. She found her name on a place card and immediately glanced left and right. Sure enough, Marie was seated to her right. She recognised the name on the left as belonging to the head of magical transportation. He was a bit of an old creep, but she could handle it.

"Alicia! Ma chèrie!"

Alicia gasped and only just avoided spilling her champagne as Marie hugged her from behind. Alicia turned and wrapped her free arm around her boss. As always, her enthusiasm was infectious. Alicia kissed her on each cheek, as if they hadn't seen each other in days, when in reality they'd been together only hours ago.

"Oh my!" Marie gasped theatrically. "That dress is…is magnifique!"

"Thank you." Alicia looked down at Marie's huge, golden dress and grinned. Understated as always. "Your dress is amazing. Something your namesake Marie Antoinette would have worn."

"Do you really think so?" Marie asked, doing a neat pirouette. "I do love Muggle dresses."

That was the norm in France. French witches were slightly obsessed with Muggle fashion for some reason. They didn't always pull it off correctly but the fascination was endearing nonetheless. Back home Muggle clothing had only been worn by younger generations. Robes were definitely the standard at the British Ministry, but the French Ministry was an eclectic mixture of Muggle attire and neat black robes.

"Is this my seat?"

Alicia pulled out Marie's chair for her. "Yes. I'm here on your left and to your right is…oh. Mr Christopher Warrington."

Of course he would have a prime spot next to the Minister – he was hosting the whole event! Alicia felt a wave of baseless panic. Would he recognise her? Would he say something to her? What was she supposed to say back?

"I haven't seen Christopher yet. Is he here?" Marie asked, craning her neck around pointlessly. She was only about five foot two.

"I haven't seen him either."

Marie halted her searching to give Alicia a thoughtful sidewards glance. "But of course. I remember now that Christopher attended Hogwarts just like you. Did you know him?"

Alicia shook her head. "I mean, well, we were in the same year. But I don't _know_ him. We played Quidditch against each other a few times, I suppose."

Marie clapped her hands together. "Wonderful. Then we must switch seats so you can catch up with your old friend."

"No, no. Did you not hear me? I don't want to sit next to him. He was a Slytherin, for Merlin's sake."

Obviously that meant nothing to Marie. She merely tutted and quickly switched Alicia's place card with her own. "There. Now sit down and stop making a scene. People are looking."

Alicia glanced up to see most guests were now seated and a fair few were staring at her and Marie. Fine. She hmphed loudly to make her annoyance clear and sat down in her newly assigned seat. If she didn't know any better, she'd think Marie had planned this as some pitiful attempt to set her up with Warrington. But surely Marie thought she could do better than a lanky guy with bad skin and bony limbs.

Alicia concentrated on the menu that was in front of her. Escargot or frogs' legs for starters. Urgh. How clichéd. Salmon or beef for main; crème brûlée or soufflé for dessert. What an uninspired load of tosh.

The chair beside Alicia suddenly pulled out and she kept her focus studiously trained on her place setting.

"_Good evening, Minister du Pont. I trust you are well_."

"_Christopher! I am very well, thank you_." Alicia felt Marie brush against her back as she reached over to greet Warrington with her customary kiss on the cheek.

"_Has there been a mix-up with the seating plan_?"

"_Not at all. I merely switched places with my assistant. I believe you attended Hogwarts together_."

Alicia jumped slightly when a hand extended into her field of vision and snatched up her place card. She didn't know what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn't laughter.

"You've got to be shitting me." Warrington laughed a deep, rumbling laugh from behind her.

Alicia turned around, ready to snap off a witty retort, but her voice failed her and instead she stared open mouthed. It wasn't Warrington behind her. Or maybe it was. But no, Warrington from school didn't look like _that_.

His laughter died on his lips and he cocked his head. Alicia narrowed her eyes and stared back. It probably was the same Warrington now that she looked closely. But he looked different. Better. _So_ much better. He was wearing a Muggle tuxedo, complete with bow tie and cummerbund. The suit was perfectly fitted and he had clearly filled out over the years. She remembered him always having dark brown hair and matching eyes, but she couldn't recall the perfect cheek bones and jawline back then. Although, to be fair, his constant pimples had probably detracted from his bone structure somewhat.

"Alicia Spinnet?" was what he finally said, obviously having his own moment of doubt. Though she was sure she still looked the same as she had at school. Maybe a little curvier now. But her round face and mousy brown hair hadn't changed all that much.

"That's what it says on the card, doesn't it?"

Warrington smirked at this and took his seat without another word. Alicia folded her hands primly on her lap and regarded the menu thoughtfully, as if she hadn't already gone over it a moment ago.

"Do you want me to switch seats?"

Alicia looked up into Warrington's eyes for a second. Her gaze slid to his right hand side. The head of the magical sports department winked at her and raised his glass. Another old creep.

Alicia shook her head. "Not necessary. We're old school friends, right?"

"If that's how you want to play it," Warrington answered, shrugging casually.

Alicia nodded and continued to scour the menu as if it was actually War and Peace she was reading. She could get through tonight. She only had to eat then she could make her excuses and leave. She'd fake a fucking seizure if she had to.

"What are you doing in France?" Warrington eventually asked.

"Working for the Minister, obviously." Alicia reached for her champagne and inelegantly gulped some down.

"So you live in Paris?"

"Yes, I rent a little place in the Latin Quarter. It's tiny really, but my building is right between two patisseries and across from a sushi restaurant, so that makes up for it in my opinion. What about you? What are you doing here?"

"I run the family business now, which takes me all over the Continent. This house is conveniently located for me so I've based myself here for the past couple of years. The estate's been in my family for a few generations."

"It's a beautiful house," Alicia said sincerely. "It's nice of you to lend it to the Ministry for the night."

"Not really up to me. The Rose Ball has taken place here for about eighteen years. I couldn't kill this garish Muggle tradition even if I wanted to."

Alicia narrowed her eyes. Still a Slytherin deep down, despite the polished exterior and false charm. Before Alicia could voice this, waiters streamed in with the entrees. A plate of escargot was placed in front of her and she winced.

"Not a fan of snails?" Warrington enquired.

Was he watching her or something? "Not at all. But I like frogs even less."

Not to mention snakes, she thought wryly. Everyone around her began to eat and murmur appreciatively between mouthfuls. She sipped at her dwindling champagne.

"I forgot you are not a fan of escargot," Marie said. "I will gladly take it from you." She switched her empty plate with Alicia's full one and began to eat.

The head of transportation guffawed from Marie's other side. "_You're probably more of a fish and chips girl, am I right_?"

An innocent observation to anyone else at the table, but Alicia caught the underlying implication. She was uncultured British trash. It happened a lot and she always laughed along politely with the joke.

"_British cuisine might be lacking in sophistication, but let's not delude ourselves, we are all currently sitting here eating garden pests, Mr Barreau_."

There was some uneasy laughter at Warrington's comment. Alicia hid a smile with her glass of champagne. Had Warrington just come to her defence? No. The defence of his motherland more likely.

Conversation turned to current events and Alicia tried to pay attention. She was supposed to care about this political stuff. As the Minister's personal assistant she had to keep up with governmental dealings and whatnot. It was just so boring. Warrington bumped her slightly with his elbow and apologised. Alicia straightened up a little. Not that she could move over much thanks to Marie's gigantic dress swamping her on the other side.

Warrington was so close to her that he couldn't really help but bump her every so often. She could even smell his cologne over the prevailing scent of roses. He smelled really nice. Musky and masculine.

Alicia's stomach fluttered and she put it down to the gross food being eaten around her. Maybe she should track down that waiter. Even just for a quick snog behind a rose bush to break her dry spell and get whatever this sudden weirdness was out of her system.

Warrington was deep in conversation with the head of sports so at least she was being left alone for the time being. The plates were cleared away and the main meals appeared. Alicia's heart sank when a plate of perfectly garnished grilled salmon was placed in front of her. Marie would probably swap. She looked over just in time to see her boss giving her delicious looking beef away to someone else at their table.

"Would you like to swap?" Warrington asked.

"No, it's fine," she said quickly, without thinking it through. She was starving and she really wanted to try that beef.

"You made a face."

"No I didn't." Why was he looking at her damn face all the time? "It's all right. I like fish, really I do. Salmon is quite…fishy though. Compared to battered fish, I mean. That hardly tastes like fish."

Oh my God. How many times could one person use the word fish in ten seconds? She truly was uncultured British trash.

"So you'd prefer to sit there and eat nothing rather than swap your meal with me?" Warrington asked, sounding more than a little perturbed. "Still a stubborn fucking Gryffindor."

"Shut up," Alicia bit back. She was obviously too malnourished to come up with a suitably scathing response.

Warrington picked up her plate and dropped his own indelicately in front of her. "There. Take the beef and say thank you."

Alicia muttered her thanks under her breath and started to eat. She would have liked to tell Warrington where he could stick his beef, but she didn't want to make a scene. People were waiting for her to fail so they could tell Marie she had made a mistake hiring her. She didn't particularly care for her job anymore, but she didn't want Marie to look like a fool for taking a chance on her.

At least the beef tasted as good as it looked. There just wasn't enough of it. By the time dessert showed up, Alicia was ravenous. She gladly tucked in to her crème brûlée. She ate it so fast that she wasn't even sure if it was good or not. She helped herself to another passing glass of champagne while she waited for everyone to finish eating.

"Here, have my soufflé."

Warrington placed his untouched dessert in front of her. She snatched up her spoon and dove right in, all stubbornness forgotten this time around. "God that's good," she said, barely fighting the urge to moan wantonly. "How can you not like soufflé?"

"I'm not one for sweets in general."

"Figures. Doesn't look like there's an ounce of fat on you."

Alicia froze, a spoonful of soufflé halfway to her mouth. If she was lucky he would let that comment go.

"Had a good look, did you?"

She could hear the smirk in his voice without even turning her head. "You were skinny at school and you're still skinny now. That's all."

"If you say so," he whispered in her ear and she shivered involuntary.

This was getting out of hand. She knew when she was being flirted with. Why would Warrington need to flirt with her? He was rich and good-looking. Surely he could have his pick of women. She may have looked spectacular in her dress, but she was the enemy. Well, back at school anyway. Not that she could remember ever feeling any particular animosity towards him. Flint had made her skin crawl, and she'd wanted to slap Malfoy on numerous occasions, but Warrington had barely been on her radar. Except…

"Oi! You were in that awful vigilante gang Umbridge started in seventh year."

Alicia realised she had spoken too loudly when all conversation at the table ceased. Marie grasped her arm. "Who was in a gang?"

"Nobody. She's talking about a harmless little club I joined at school to get extra credit in my final year."

"That's the only reason you joined? Yeah right. I swear you once took house points off me because I coughed too loudly near you."

"And four years later I gave you my soufflé, so we'll call it even, yeah?"

Alicia glared over at him. "Still an evil fucking Slytherin," she whispered so that only he could hear.

Warrington gave her a disarmingly attractive smile and stood up. He extended his hand over her head. "_Minister du Pont, would you honour me with the first dance of the evening_?"

"_Of course_!"

Alicia went back to eating her soufflé as classical music began to play. She glanced over her shoulder to see couples begin to saunter into the makeshift ballroom. No way was she going to be caught dead dancing with anyone here. It was all Ministry bosses and dignitaries and assorted VIPs. Most of them were at least triple her age. She kept her eyes averted and nibbled at her dessert. She'd finish her champagne then leave.

The hot waiter from earlier came to clear her table. He gave her a speculative smile and lingered near her for a while. She bowed her head quickly. He suddenly didn't seem so hot anymore. She'd never been one for blonde hair and blue eyes anyway. She much preferred a darker, more Mediterranean look. Like Warrington.

Alicia took a deep breath and placed her half-finished glass on the table. She'd clearly had enough of that. She was feeling warm and restless. Probably the alcohol. Maybe her odd fascination with Warrington all of a sudden.

"_Would you care to dance_?"

Alicia looked up to find the head of the magical sports department stretching his pudgy hand out to her. She fought the urge to retch. Aside from giving off a distinctly pervy vibe, he was one of Marie's biggest adversaries and critics. Alicia didn't see how she could decline without seeming rude and having it reflect badly on Marie so she ignored the offered hand and stood up on her own. She really fucking hated politics.

"All right. One dance."

Alicia marched through to the dancefloor and waited for the old man to catch up. She recognised the Muggle music playing but couldn't name it. Beethoven, Mozart and Bach were all alike to her.

Her dance partner seized her around the waist without preamble and pulled her against him.

Thankfully his large stomach kept the bodily contact to a minimum. His sweaty hand settled on her lower back and they began to shuffle around awkwardly. It was then that she realised some classical music went on for ages. What if she was stuck dancing with this sex pest for ten whole minutes?

He was clasping her hand tightly and steering her around so she moved on auto-pilot and pretended she was literally anywhere else. Back home, she thought wistfully. Back at Hogwarts with Angelina and Katie. Playing Quidditch with her old team. Eating her mum's shepherd's pie.

What was she even doing in France anymore? Her homesickness was getting stronger with every passing day. Her work was unfulfilling and monotonous. She had friends here, but no one that she could say she loved. Not like Ange and Katie. She dated some men but never found much of a connection beyond the physical. There was really nothing keeping her here anymore.

Bollocks. The awful man was talking to her. Something about Cannes. "_Sounds lovely_," she said quickly.

"_Really? You'd come to the resort with me? Just the two of us_?"

"Wait, what?"

"_I'll make a booking right away_!"

Alicia almost vomited at the thought of a romantic holiday with this man. "No. That's not what I meant. _Uh, the Minister keeps me very busy so I don't have time for holidays. And – and maybe you ought to take someone your own age_."

"_Are you saying I'm old_?" he blustered.

"No, I just…"

"_May I cut in_?"

Alicia could have kissed him. She wouldn't have, obviously. But she very well could have at that moment. The department head looked like he was going to protest then thought better of it. He couldn't very well refuse Warrington's request; it was his house they were standing in.

"_I'll come and find you later so we can discuss this further_," Alicia promised the red-faced man, her most innocent smile firmly in place.

She twisted out of his grasp and stepped next to Warrington, who took hold of her elbow possessively. She couldn't even bring herself to be affronted by the fact she was being passed around like an object – she was simply glad to be free.

The old man huffed and puffed a bit for show then left them standing still in the middle of the dancefloor. "Thank you," she muttered, wiping her damp hand down the side of her dress.

"You looked more than a little uncomfortable."

"He smelled like boiled ham." Alicia grimaced. "And his hand left a sweat patch on my back."

Warrington reached around her and wiped his sleeve across her back. "That get it?"

"Lower," she said, her face burning with embarrassment. "No. Lower."

"Christ. His hand might as well have been on your arse," Warrington said. "Why'd you let him get away with that?"

Alicia shrugged. "Because he's a department head and I'm an assistant. And he never actually _did_ touch my arse."

Warrington shook his head and she thought she saw disappointment flash across his face. "I think I've overestimated you."

"This is politics, Warrington. I would have found a way to get back at him at work on Monday – some way that he wouldn't know it was me. I spent my formative years watching the Weasley twins turn people into giant canaries, so I have more than a few tricks up my sleeve."

Warrington opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by Marie who suddenly popped up next to them. "Why are you two not dancing?" she demanded, as her partner spun her and dipped her extravagantly.

"We were just about to," Warrington answered.

Alicia avoided looking at him as she stepped into his arms. One of his hands settled on her back and she awkwardly put her own hand on his shoulder. He took her other hand and held if aloft in a classic waltz pose. Not that she knew how to waltz, mind you. Her preferred style of dancing was suited more to Muggle night clubs.

Thankfully, Warrington seemed to have more rhythm than her last partner. Not to mention he smelled infinitely better. His hand was warm and slightly rough on her back; not even a bit sweaty. There was also no huge belly in the way this time. They weren't exactly grinding against each other, but Alicia's breasts were on the larger side so they were brushing against his chest slightly.

Alicia took a steadying breath and looked around. Thanks to her heels she could just manage to see over Warrington's shoulder. She found there was a welcome distraction taking place across the room. Two women were currently in a shoving match with each other, while a frantic looking man tried to pull them apart.

"That looks interesting," she commented more to herself than to Warrington.

"What's going on?" He spun Alicia around so he could see what she was talking about. "Ah, I see Pierre has finally been caught out."

"You know that man?"

"He's a rich philanthropist who owns a vineyard not far from here. Produces a mediocre pinot noir if I remember correctly. Naughty boy's been having an affair with Helene there for about a year now. Helene is the blonde and the brunette is his wife, Sara."

"That's awful. How do you know all this?"

"I couldn't really say and I honestly wish I didn't know any of it. But there's always the same crowd at these things and there's always talk about who's shagging whom. Sometimes it pays to know what's going on, but most of the time it's idle gossip."

Alicia nodded thoughtfully and relaxed a little more against him. It was weird to think of Warrington keeping company with these people. He hadn't seemed very aristocratic back at Hogwarts and she'd had no idea back then that his family was rich. A lot of Slytherin families were of course, she just hadn't known his was one of them.

"So why aren't your parents here tonight?"

"My mother's back in England helping my sister prepare for her wedding. My father's not here because he's dead," Warrington replied flatly.

"Oh no. I'm so sorry," she said automatically.

"Don't be. It happened years ago, back when we were in sixth year. And it was no great loss to the world."

A memory floated to the surface of Alicia's mind. Oh God. Warrington's dad had been a Death Eater. She was sure of it. She'd read it somewhere or heard it from someone. She was probably dancing with a Death Eater right now!

"Relax," he whispered in her ear.

"I am relaxed. Everything's fine," she said. She cursed the fact that her wand was back at the table in her purse. She could possibly knee him in the groin and run away but they'd gradually danced their way to the far side of the room. He'd catch her before she even made it halfway to the door.

"I can feel you tensing up," Warrington said. "Just calm down. I'm not a Death Eater. I wasn't then and I'm not now. I'll show you my arm if you want."

"It's all right," she said. She didn't even know what that would prove. For all she knew everyone's Dark Mark automatically faded away after Voldemort's death. That was probably something she ought to research later given her current situation.

"I was over here when I got word that Hogwarts was being attacked. I went straight to the French Ministry and waited it out there. Half the people in this room can vouch for me, including your boss."

Alicia had been present at the Battle of Hogwarts – AKA the worst night of her life – and she hated thinking about it. "I think maybe this was a bad idea. I'm going back to my seat."

She was gently trying to pull away but he held on tight and pulled her against him. "Come on," he said softly. He grabbed her chin and turned her face towards his. "Look me in the eye and I'll say it again. I am _not_ a Death Eater."

Alicia bit her lip uncertainly. "But your father was."

"So? Doesn't mean a thing. All right, so he tried to recruit me more than once but I refused every single time. There was no way I was going to throw my life away for Voldemort's cause."

Alicia racked her brain. Back when she had first come to France as Tiberius Ogden's assistant they had been presented with a list of possible dark wizards. She would have remembered if Warrington had been on it. Unless he passed under the radar because he was rich or British or something. She was grasping at straws and still coming up with no answer either way.

"What can I say or do to convince you I'm not affiliated with any dark wizards?"

"What does it matter what I think, anyway?"

"I don't want anyone thinking I'm that sort of person. And for some reason I really don't want you to think that way about me."

They were in a poorly lit corner of the room now and Warrington's eyes were so dark they looked almost black. He seemed sincere but she still felt uneasy.

"You've guided me into this dark and isolated corner and you won't let go of me. What do you expect me to think right now?"

He released her immediately and stepped back. "I'm sorry. I just didn't want to let go of you. It's the damnedest thing."

"Warrington, what exactly is going on here?" Alicia demanded.

"I don't know, but I think now's a good time for you to start calling me Christopher."

"No. This is such a bad idea."

"What is?"

"This!" Alicia shouted, gesturing vaguely between them. "A terrible, horrible idea."

"I'm not exactly ecstatic about it either but I can't seem to focus on anything other than you tonight. It's that bloody dress of yours. Plus I'm sick of smelling fucking roses all the time and you smell like apricots."

"Peaches," Alicia corrected softly. "It's my shampoo that smells like peaches,"

"Peaches. Even better. All I've wanted to do all night is bury my face in your hair."

Alicia's heart was pounding. Her body was still flooded with adrenalin from before when she had thought he was a Death Eater. It was taking her a while to come down off that rush, but her brain was slowly ticking over in the meantime. He wanted her. Christopher Warrington wanted her.

He wanted _her._

"I need time to think this through so let's just dance, all right, before someone comes over here to hassle us. And by someone I mean Marie."

"If that's what you want to do," he said, extending his hand towards her. She took it gingerly and he pulled her sharply against his chest. "That dress of yours really is mesmerising." He ran his fingertips lightly up and down her bare back. "I just can't decide whether I like the front or the back of it more."

He glanced down to where they were pressed together, chest to chest. "Sorted. Definitely the front."

Alicia giggled demurely, as she would have done if he was anyone else. He might as well be anyone. School felt like a lifetime ago now. She hardly felt like a Gryffindor anymore. Warrington was being very un-Slytherin-like tonight. They were just two young people with a mutual attraction that didn't seem like letting up anytime soon.

They slowly drifted back towards the edge of the dancefloor. Alicia found herself relaxing completely against him and resting her head on his shoulder. Unsurprisingly, his face was buried in her hair already and when he spoke his mouth was right by her ear.

"Do you see the lady in the puffy white dress to our right? The one with the curly red hair. Looks like a long-lost Weasley."

"Yes. Good Lord, I think she's wearing an actual wedding dress. Who is she?"

"Nobody of any real importance. Her family's richer than mine though and they donate a lot of money to Beauxbatons. Anyway, you see the bloke she's dancing with? Clearly of African descent, yeah?"

"Yeah." He was quite a good-looking man. Too good-looking for his ridiculous fashion disaster of a wife.

"He's her husband. Last year she had a baby and the kid came out whiter than white. We're talking whiter than Moaning Myrtle. The weird thing is everyone has just been pretending they haven't noticed."

"Gosh. So it's definitely not his baby?"

"I'm told the kid bears a striking resemblance to the Irish gardener."

What a strange world this was. Affairs and illegitimate children. It was like one of those Muggle soap operas her gran used to watch. "You don't seem like you fit in with these people."

"I hate going to these events. Well, usually I do," he added. "Tonight hasn't been as boring as I was expecting."

"You seem to know a lot about what goes on yet you didn't hear that I was working for the Minister for Magic?"

"I'd heard she'd chosen an English woman to be her assistant – which didn't go down well with anyone, by the way. I never heard your name mentioned though and I suppose I pictured someone older and frumpier. What about you? You must have known whose house you would be walking into tonight. Why'd you come?"

Alicia pulled back to look him in the eye. "Marie is very persuasive. Not to mention she's my boss. If she says she needs me to go somewhere with her I don't have much choice. I honestly wasn't looking forward to running in to you. I certainly wasn't expecting you to look like…like this."

Warrington grinned wolfishly down at her. "You like the way I look?"

Alicia rolled her eyes. "You know you're hot and you know I think you're hot, so don't play dumb."

"Thanks. Puberty really did a number on me back at school. Eventually the spots cleared up though and I grew into my body. Thank God for small miracles. I didn't fancy spending my life looking like an overgrown Bowtruckle."

"Hmm. Now that you mention it, you did kind of look like a huge Bowtruckle."

"Thanks again."

Alicia's gaze flickered down to his smiling mouth. Bugger it all. He had perfect lips as well. She could really throw all her sensibilities out the window right now and kiss him. In fact she could happily kiss him till they were both breathless and panting.

"Are you done thinking?" he asked, his eyes equally fixated on her mouth.

"I can't think clearly at all right now. What do _you_ think?"

"I don't know. There's not a lot of blood flowing to my brain right now."

She was getting flushed and antsy as her mind hastily ran through pros and cons. "Is there somewhere else we can go? Somewhere private, away from the music and the other people. But not your bedroom or anything," she added hastily.

Warrington chuckled and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Sure. How about I show you the rest of the garden."

"Sounds perfect."

He took her by the hand and led her around the outskirts of the dancefloor. Alicia looked half-heartedly over her shoulder for Marie, but couldn't see her anywhere. She felt a little guilty for ducking out when she was technically working, but she still had a sneaking suspicion Marie had planned this whole 'chance meeting' with Warrington.

They exited through a door that led them into a beautifully appointed, rustic kitchen. Alicia saw an open bottle of champagne on the counter and she snatched it up as they breezed past. They exited another door and were back out in the open air.

Warrington stopped short and shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket and draped it over her shoulders. He took her hand again and kept walking. This was the first time a man had ever done that for her and it made her feel warm and fuzzy.

"You must still play Quidditch," she said as they followed a gravel path around the back of the house.

"Must I?"

"Your hands. I know a Quidditch callous when I feel one. You must play regularly." To prove her point she rubbed her thumb along the hardened skin on his palm. "I don't mean to be weird. I have a thing for hands, that's all."

"Then I guess it's your lucky night because I happen to be very good with my hands."

Somehow Alicia didn't doubt that for a second. She looked up at the dark, velvety sky and silently thanked whatever deity was currently listening.

"This is my favourite spot in the garden," Warrington announced as they rounded the corner. They were on a hill overlooking a dark valley. The area was closed in by neat hedges filled with more enchanted fairy lights. She could just make out the distant lights of the nearest Muggle city – Dijon if her geography was correct.

"The view is even better during the day."

"I'd love to see it during the day," Alicia replied without thinking. That sounded more than a little presumptuous. All that seemed to be on offer so far was one night. She certainly didn't need anything more than that. One spectacular shag and it would be out of her system. Probably. Most likely.

Alicia sat herself down on the soft grass and took a swig of her pilfered champagne. Above her Warrington was fussing with his clothing.

"I need to get this stupid thing off." He successfully unbuckled his cummerbund and flung it out into the darkness. "Why does Muggle clothing have to be so tight and constricting?"

"You said you liked my dress."

He untucked his shirt and dropped to the ground beside her. "That's different. It's all right for women." He began tugging aggressively at the ends of his bow tie. "Don't even get me started on the pointlessness of ties. Fucking bollocks."

He'd managed to turn his tie into one big knot. Alicia put aside her bottle and pushed his hands out of the way. She began to work on the knot. "You might not want to hear this, but you do look good in a tux. It suits you."

"I look good in anything. And nothing at all, come to think of it."

"That was cheesy." Alicia shook her head but was unable to hide her smile. She finished loosening the knot and left the tie hanging open around his neck.

"Thanks. Now how about these useless twats?" he asked, holding out his wrists.

"They're called cufflinks." Alicia twisted the swivel bars on the back of the silver and obsidian cufflinks. "There, now just pull them through the buttonholes."

"Possibly an even bigger waste of time than a bowtie." Warrington removed the cufflinks and threw them aside into one the hedges.

Alicia winced. "They looked expensive."

Warrington just shrugged and began to roll up his sleeves. "My gardener might find them tomorrow. Besides, it'll be a cold day in hell before I ever wear a Muggle suit again."

Alicia's eyes involuntarily travelled to the inside of his forearm. Nothing but tantalisingly smooth skin. Same story on the other arm.

"I told you so."

Alicia's attention snapped back to his face. "I didn't need to see. I wouldn't have come out here if I didn't believe you."

"And why exactly did you decide to come out here with me?" he asked as he proceeded to undo the top couple of buttons of his shirt.

Just like that Alicia's resolve snapped. There was only so much slow undressing her overheated body could handle.

She seized the ends of the bow tie and pulled him abruptly towards her. He let out a groan as their lips met roughly. Alicia easily slipped her tongue into his receptive mouth. French kissing in France. The thought always made her smile. For a change there was no awkward fumbling or clashing of teeth. Warrington was a slow, deliberate sort of kisser and they found a complementary rhythm right away. Alicia didn't know what that meant exactly, but it was a welcome development.

He was slowly lowering her backwards onto the grass. One of his hands was lost in her hair and the other was pulling her dress up inch by inch. Alicia placed her hands on his chest and pushed him away firmly.

"Wait a minute, Warrington."

He exhaled sharply and sat back. "You really need to start using my first name."

"Christopher! Just hold on for a second."

"You grabbed hold of me," he pointed out.

"I know. I've just never done this before. Had a one night stand, I mean," she clarified quickly. "I've had sex before. Plenty of sex."

"Good to know." He'd pulled back from her but his hand was underneath her dress now, resting on her knee. "For the record, I haven't had a one night stand before either. Seems pretty straight forward though."

"So I'll never see you again after tonight? Is that how it works?"

"It's fairly self-explanatory. One night means one night." His hand crept higher up her leg as he leaned over and ran his lips along her collarbone. "That being said, if I run into you at another one of these functions in a few months' time I'd be up for another night."

Alicia sighed and tilted her head to give him better access to her neck. "That won't happen. I'm going back to England soon. I'm so homesick that it's beginning to affect my work and that's not fair on Marie. Have you been back home recently?"

"I consider France to be my home now, I suppose. There's no reason for me to go back to England anymore."

Alicia grabbed hold of Warrington's face and looked him in the eye. "But your family and friends are all over there. Don't you miss them?"

"Not even slightly," he answered without a second of hesitation. "I couldn't care less about my mother and sister and I don't really consider anyone back there to be a friend. Well, Pucey, maybe, but even then I can only tolerate him in short bursts."

"But aren't you lonely?"

"I have acquaintances here. We play Quidditch together about once a week and that's more than enough social interaction for me."

"But don't you sometimes feel-"

Warrington cut her off by covering her mouth with his hand. "Either you stop the therapy session or I'll stop what I'm doing." The hand he had under her dress was now at the apex of her thighs. His fingers brushed against the front of her lace knickers and her eyes widened. "Which is it going to be?"

Alicia pulled his hand away from her mouth. "I'll stop talking."

"Good choice."

"Just promise me you won't tell anyone about this. No one here in France and definitely no one we went to school with."

"It wouldn't matter. No one who knew what I looked like back at school would ever believe I fingered one of the Gryffindor Chasers on a hillside in rural France."

Alicia clutched imploringly at his shoulder as he pushed her embarrassingly damp knickers aside. "Wait. Promise me first."

"All right, I promise! This will just be between you and me."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me just yet," he said, his eyes locking meaningfully onto hers. He slid one finger easily inside of her and her breath hitched. He grinned triumphantly and added a second finger right away.

"Oh God," Alicia hissed and her head fell back. She stared up at the stars and wondered how she had got to this point so quickly. Barely two hours ago she'd been skulking around the courtyard on the lookout for some half remembered boy from school. She didn't normally move this fast.

Warrington was watching her intently as he began to move his fingers in and out slowly. He was certainly nice to look at, but there was something else, something magnetic about him that she couldn't deny even if she'd had half a mind to stop him then and there. It was too much, too fast, yet somehow inevitable all at the same time.

"You're so wet. I've really gotten to you, haven't I?"

Alicia nodded mutely. He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her in for a kiss. His tongue seared a trail along her bottom lip and her own tongue snaked out to meet his. When he suddenly stretched his thumb out and pressed it to her clit, her mouth went completely slack against his.

Warrington drew back and pressed some small kisses across her cheeks and down the bridge of her nose. "Just tell me you want me and I'll Apparate us up to my bedroom right now."

Alicia nodded and dug her fingernails into his bicep as she clung on for dear life. "I want you. I want you now. Please."

"That's all I had to hear," he muttered as he dove in to kiss her again. Alicia sat forward and threw her arms around his neck as she felt the familiar push and squeeze of Apparition. Her head spun and she screwed her eyes shut tightly.

Weak, buttery sunlight was streaming in through a nearby window when Alicia awoke early the next morning. Her eyes flickered around the room and she remembered where she was. Grinning, she stretched luxuriously against the impossibly soft sheets on Warrington's four-poster bed. She had that rather welcome ache that came after a long night of continuous shagging. It'd been amazing, exactly what she needed to take her mind off her recent homesickness. If she was lucky he'd be up for a bit more before she had to return to Paris.

Alicia rolled over and plastered what she hoped was a grateful smile on her face. Except she was met with an empty bed and rumpled sheets. Frowning, she sat up and peered around the room. She didn't know if this was usual one night stand etiquette or not. Surely they'd have some interaction in the morning. It couldn't literally be just one night. Could it?

Alicia crawled to the end of the impossibly huge bed and looked around on the floor for her dress. It wasn't anywhere to be seen. She distinctly remembered Warrington taking it off her in the middle of the room and leaving it pooled on the floor.

What the hell was she supposed to do now? She was naked, wandless and she had no idea where Warrington had disappeared to.

As she looked around for her dress she did end up solving one of her problems. Her purse containing her wand was sitting on top of a small table by the door. How could she have been so stupid as to leave it behind in the first place? She was such a terrible witch. Not to mention far too trusting and naïve.

Warrington could have done anything to her last night. I mean, well, he'd done plenty to her last night.

A smile crept across Alicia's face as she had a sudden vision of a dark head nestled in between her legs. She ought to at least find him to thank him for a job well done. After all, her parents raised her to be polite and gracious.

She fished around under the sheet and found her discarded underwear. She was sliding them back on when the handle to the bedroom door began to turn. Warrington was finally back. Alicia smoothed her hair down and reclined back on the bed, her head pillowed on her arms. Her seductive pose was wasted, however, as it wasn't Warrington who entered but a dumpy older woman wearing a black pinafore over a white blouse.

Alicia gasped and scrambled to cover herself with the sheet. The woman shuffled in carrying a tray, which she came and set down on the bed. "Bonjour," she said brightly, seemingly not bothered by the fact she was in the presence of a naked stranger.

"Who are you?" Alicia demanded, the sheet clutched tightly up under her chin.

"Oh, an English lass. How lovely! My name's Marta and I'm Mr Warrington's housekeeper of course," the woman replied cheerfully, her own accent betraying her Irish roots. "I wasn't expecting you to be awake this early. I came in before to drop off your purse and I spotted your dress on the floor. It's a real thing of beauty, dear. There was grass on it so I'm running a few cleaning spells on it as we speak. Gentle, delicate spells, mind you. Mustn't be too rough with a frock like that."

"Er, thank you."

"Not a worry, dear." Marta pointed towards the bowl of fruit and piece of toast on the tray beside Alicia. "I took the liberty of bringing you a spot of breakfast to eat before you leave."

"Leave?" Alicia echoed. "But where's Wa- I mean, Christopher."

"I'm afraid he's had to go to work," Marta said dolefully.

Alicia glanced at the clock on the far wall dubiously. "He's working at half six on a Sunday?"

Marta nodded and twisted her hands together in front of her. "He's a very busy man, you see. But he sends his regards and asked me to give you this." The pocket on the front of her dress was obviously magically enlarged because she drew a long-stemmed red rose from it. She handed it to Alicia then pulled out a scrap of parchment as well.

Alicia carelessly tossed the rose aside onto the floor and snatched at the parchment.

_Regretfully I have been called away to work_. _Thank you for a wonderful evening. _

She turned the scrap over but that was it. Nothing more, nothing less.

_Thank you for a wonderful evening._

Alicia's chest was beginning to feel tight. She admittedly had never had a one night stand before, but she'd never imagined it would be so clinical, so…brutal. She felt like she was being summarily dismissed. Warrington had gotten what he wanted so she was no longer of any use to him.

"What am I supposed to do now?" Alicia asked softly.

It was more of an introspective question, but Marta answered anyway. "You eat up and I'll go check on your dress. There's also some clothing in the wardrobe you're welcome to wear home if you don't want to put your dress back on."

"What?" Alicia said, feeling dazed and out of sorts.

Marta was wringing her hands so frantically by now that Alicia was concerned she'd break a finger. "I can bring back a few Galleons with me if that will help."

"You're going to pay me?" Alicia shrieked. "Like I'm some sort of prostitute?"

Marta, looking stricken, reached out towards her. "Oh no, love, it's not like that. Not at all! I'm only offering because some of the others have wanted the money and Mr Warrington says it's fine for me to give them some."

"Others?" Alicia was up on her knees now with the sheet tucked up under her armpits. She felt sick to her stomach. "What do you mean by others? How many others?"

"Oh no. He's going to be so upset with me." Marta pressed her hands to her bright red cheeks. "I wish you had stayed asleep. That always makes things a lot easier."

"Tell me where Warrington is right now," Alicia ordered.

"He's at work. Far, far away at work. I must go and check on your dress now. I'll bring it straight back over so you can leave."

Alicia was too angry to form coherent sentences anymore. She growled and muttered to herself as Marta trotted from the room. Warrington was going to die. That lying fucking Slytherin.

Alicia stood up and wrapped the sheet around herself so she could go and get something to wear from the aforementioned wardrobe. As she shuffled along she checked out her surroundings. She definitely wasn't in a man's bedroom. The furniture was all baroque style for a start and she couldn't imagine Warrington would have any use for the large dressing table and mirror set up against one wall. Not to mention the curtains, which were a flowery, pink brocade affair.

She hadn't noticed any of this the night before. The semi-darkness certainly hadn't helped, but deep down she knew she'd been blinded by lust and her brain had been otherwise occupied.

He hadn't even had the decency to take her to his actual bedroom. Tears stung at Alicia's eyes but she ignored the unwelcome sensation and lifted her chin defiantly. She reached the golden, baroque wardrobe and wrenched the doors open. A neat row of women's clothing greeted her. There was Muggle stuff in there but also robes. And there appeared to be a variety of sizes.

Alicia stomach roiled as she considered just how many other women must have stood in that exact spot. Oh God, she was probably going to get a venereal disease. They'd used a contraceptive charm but that didn't protect against everything.

Without thinking, Alicia snatched up a plain black dress and slipped it over her head. Back by the bed she retrieved her shoes and began to buckle them. A sudden thought hit her and she straightened up. He was going to tell everyone. The entire Slytherin team was going to find out what a stupid slag she was. It would get back to Angelina and Katie; it would get back to Fred and George.

Alicia grabbed the bowl of fruit and flung it across the room in a fit of rage. It narrowly missed hitting the dressing table mirror and instead shattered against the wall. Porcelain and fruit went flying everywhere. She grabbed the plate with the toast next and whipped it across the room like a Frisbee.

This moment of madness got enough anger out of her system that she was able to finish buckling her shoes. Though her hands were still shaking slightly and her heart was hammering in her chest. She felt used and forgotten and meaningless. No one had ever treated her so callously after sex. Not even George had –

Alicia's throat tightened and she gave a choking sort of sob. She couldn't think about him now. Not after she'd just betrayed him so thoughtlessly. She ran over to the nearest window and threw it open. Fresh, crisp air wafted in and she breathed deeply.

They'd fought in a war where the opposition was mostly made up of ex-Slytherins. George had almost died during the Battle of Hogwarts. It was most likely a Slytherin who'd injured him so severely that he almost bled to death.

Alicia glanced out of the window and realised the room was overlooking the very spot Warrington had taken her to the night before. Her bottle of champagne was lying on the grass beside his tuxedo jacket. The same one he'd draped so thoughtfully over her shoulders. Alicia turned away sharply and instinctively kicked out at a nearby side table. The ornate vase on it wobbled but didn't fall off.

Everything had been carefully orchestrated, she realised bitterly. The smiles and jokes all designed to get her to let her guard down. The compliments and soft caresses all to make her pliant and willing. Embarrassingly, she'd fallen for it all hook, line and sinker. She talked a big game, but he'd probably spotted her immaturity and inexperience the moment they first locked eyes.

Well she wasn't going to be that swooning, foolish girl anymore.

Warrington wanted her gone already and she was happy to oblige, but not before she left him with a parting gift. He wasn't going to be forgetting her anytime soon.

Alicia marched over to the table by the door and snatched up her bag. She retrieved her wand then spun around and slashed at the pink curtains. "Diffindo!"

A large gash appeared in the curtain. Alicia grinned and repeated the action on the rest of the curtains along the room. It was oh so satisfying but she needed more. She stomped over to the bed and aimed her wand at one of the pillows. "Bombarda!"

Feathers came flying out of the destroyed pillow. That was more like it. She annihilated the rest of the pillows on the bed then snatched them up. She shook them with all her might, sending feathers all over the room. She was breathless with exhilaration now but she wasn't quite done yet.

Alicia jumped up onto the bed and teetered there for a moment in her heels. She'd seen the twins use this spell once or twice before. Rubrum something. Rubrum agramento? No that wasn't right. She pictured George's perfect face as he'd said the spell and it came back to her.

"Rubrum atramento!" she shouted and pointed her wand at the pristine white sheets. Red ink exploded from the tip of her wand. Time to leave her signature then get out of there. She wrote A.S in clear, large letters on the bed. She knew from experience it was hard to get rid of that ink. Even the strongest cleaning spells had to be used again and again.

Alicia leapt off the bed and spun around, arms thrown out theatrically, à la Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music. "Rubrum atramento!"

Ink sprayed everywhere as she twirled, laughing gleefully the whole time. She eventually got dizzy and had to stop. She surveyed her handiwork. The room was covered in feathers and red ink. It was going to take a lot of cleaning up, but that wasn't her problem. She had better leave before that Irish woman came back.

_The Irish woman_. Alicia paused, her heart sinking to somewhere below her knees. Warrington was definitely going to make that poor woman clean up the mess she'd just made.

Good Godric. Why did she have to have a conscience?

"Reparo," Alicia said, pointing at one of the pillows by her feet. A few handfuls of feathers floated back inside and the slashed pillowcase sealed back up again.

She was going to have to come up with some sort of story when the housekeeper returned. Maybe she could say –

"What the bloody fuck do you think you're doing?"

Alicia gasped and turned around. Warrington was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed and eyes narrowed at her. He was wearing nothing but a pair of emerald green silk boxers. She swallowed thickly and clutched her wand to her chest. She should just Disapparate straight out of there.

"I asked you a question, Spinnet."

"I'm not doing anything! You're supposed to be off working!"

He pushed away from the door frame and advanced on her. "Clearly I'm not. Would you care to explain why you've destroyed my guest bedroom? And also why you now seem to be trying to clean it up?"

Alicia lifted her chin and planted a hand on her hip. "Because I realised you were going to make your poor housekeeper fix it and my purpose was only to make _you_ suffer."

"What have I done exactly to incur your substantial wrath?"

"For a start, you lied to me, you used me and you disrespected me," she answered, ticking off each one on her fingers.

"All right, so I may have lied about never having a one night stand. That's inconsequential. You certainly haven't been used or disrespected by me."

"That's not an inconsequential lie to me and where the hell did you disappear off to?"

"You were sound asleep when I left you at about three o'clock to go sleep in my own bed. I'm sorry if you like to cuddle afterwards but that's not really my thing."

"Not your thing?" Alicia repeated, aghast. Her wavering fight or flight instinct had settled on fight now. She stepped towards him, wand pointed in his face. "Do you ever hear yourself talk? You disgusting, slimy, conniving, fucking…fucking waste of space!"

Warrington firmly grabbed her wrist and lowered her arm back to her side. "Don't ever point your wand at me again, all right. Let's talk calmly like adults."

Alicia tried to wrench her arm out of his grip. "There's nothing to talk about. Let me go so I can Disapparate."

"Not until you explain yourself. I thought we were both clear that this was going to be a one night stand. Why are you suddenly acting like a scorned lover?"

"How often do you do this?" she demanded. "How many of the women do you pay?"

Warrington groaned and closed his eyes briefly. "What did Marta tell you?"

"Nothing. You leave her alone! I can't believe you send her in here to do your dirty work all the time. You're a disgusting coward."

"It's just simpler that way. Less messy for everyone involved. Marta only offers money if it looks like they're about to make a scene and those women are usually happy to keep quiet once they have a few extra euros or Galleons in their pocket."

"You didn't answer my first question. How often? What number am I on the list?"

"I wouldn't have a clue. I don't keep count."

Alicia began to pace back and forth angrily, thoughts of leaving superseded by another flash of anger. "Well it clearly happens often enough for you to keep a wardrobe full of women's clothes in here. And Marta seems to have the whole thing down to a fine art. If I hadn't have woken up so early she would have just left her tray behind and everything would have gone off without a hitch."

"I didn't mean for it to turn out like this either. Marta found you sleeping in here and she automatically went to start the whole routine she does. I was on my way here to intercept her but I instead found you vandalising my house. Who even wakes up before seven on a Sunday morning, anyway?"

"So this whole thing is my fault because I'm naturally an early riser? You must be taking the piss."

"What whole thing?" Warrington asked, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "I thought we had a great night. Spectacular even. At least I thought you were having a good time." He stepped in front of her to halt her pacing. He put his hands on her shoulders and asked, "Didn't you enjoy yourself last night?"

"Of course I did," she said softly. He was making her senses go haywire again now that he was right in front of her. She could still smell that musky cologne and his chocolate eyes were soft and reassuring. She could feel the heat radiating from his smooth chest. He had perfect abs because of course he did. And the jut of his hip bone was so oddly alluring that her fingers were reaching out to touch him before her brain could even register what she was doing.

Here she was again, this time totally disarmed by some stomach muscles and a pair of brown eyes. What a hopeless slag she was.

"If you had fun then what's the problem here? Why did you feel the need to cover my room in what I sincerely hope isn't blood?

"It's just ink – I'm not a complete lunatic." Alicia took a deep breath. "I guess I think…maybe I thought I was special or something. It's stupid, I know."

"That's not stupid," he said soothingly. He began rubbing his hands up and down her arms. "I lied to you because I know you have standards and you wouldn't spend the night with me if you knew the truth. I was being selfish because I wanted you. You really are beautiful, Alicia."

Embarrassingly, she felt a blush blossom outwards from her cleavage and settle up on her cheeks. No one had ever really told her that before. It was either 'you're cute' or 'you're quite pretty' or more often than not 'you have nice tits'.

"I'm sorry about your room. I'll sort it out now, I promise."

"Don't worry about it. I'll clean it up myself. It'll be a good lesson for me not to disrespect women anymore."

"You really do need to rethink your lifestyle choices," Alicia said allowing a small smile to grace her features.

Warrington brushed his thumb along her bottom lip. "If the circumstances were different I could see myself breaking all my own rules and making this a regular thing."

"If you're referring to the fact that I'm leaving Paris then that won't be for a few weeks yet."

"No, I was referring to you being a half-blood."

He might as well have thrown a bucket of ice water on her. Alicia twisted away from him immediately. "What did you just say?"

"You're a half-blood. I remembered from school."

"And what of it?" she demanded.

"Nothing! Why are you staring at me as if I just tried to use an Unforgivable curse on you?"

Alicia turned away and hit the heel of her hand repeatedly against her forehead. "Why do I keep falling for this shit? What the hell is wrong with me?"

"All I did was state a fact! What's the problem now?"

Warrington took a step towards her and she held out her hand to stop him. "No. Don't touch me. I'm just going to chalk this whole fiasco up to homesickness and horniness. I don't ever want to see you again so don't try to contact me."

He crossed his arms again and Alicia noticed his eyes suddenly weren't so soft anymore. "I wasn't planning on contacting you at all, so fine by me. You're fucking mental, by the way. It almost wasn't worth putting up with you to tick a Gryffindor Chaser off my shag list."

Alicia gritted her teeth and stifled her anger and shame. She needed a clear head if she was going to get out of there without Splinching herself. She closed her eyes and melted into the clear and focussed headspace she used while flying.

When she opened her eyes she was standing in the middle of her little flat in Paris with a lump in her throat and the lingering scent of musk in her nostrils.

* * *

A/N: Yeah, Christopher is pretty much still a tool at this point. He does redeem himself gradually and I'm hoping to come back here sporadically and add some other significant moments from their time together in France. Let me know if you're interested!


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